Boo!

My mind is on super slow tonight for some reason… it has taken me longer to do simple mental tasks than ever. Thank god most of what I did tonight required only physical skill and agility. So now I’m here… before the blank canvas of a computer screen...and it is time for me to write something that is worthy of being written… something that deserves to be on paper… and my mind, as if freed from the shackles of the mundane…begins to fly.

Fear…fear of others…fear of death…. fear of life… fear of self. I can understand fears… most of them anyway. I have never been afraid of death… to me it is useless as being afraid of children growing up. It HAPPENS. Death is the natural ending of the saga called my life, and while I am certainly nosey enough to want to know what happens later, I’m not afraid of missing out. Fear of others…there is a part of me that is disappointed by the fact that I consider others (those strangers on the street) important enough to fear. And then there is a part of me that rejoices in knowing that because they are important to me…somehow I am important to someone that I don’t know, and may never affect except for by my mere presence.

Fear of Life. Fear of Self. I didn’t even consider that either of these fears were possible (though I am sure that we humans can be terrified by anything…) until a few nights ago. A chance heard comment… ‘I don’t like being alone, because there is something about myself that terrifies me’ led my mind down paths that left me shivering and tired. How can someone be afraid of himself or herself? What can there be within you that is not a part of you? That is like being afraid of your hand…or looking at a foot and screaming in terror….but much worse. This person is claiming that they are afraid of what makes them who they are… that they have a fear of the one thing that they can never get rid of….and that made me think of being afraid to live. Living is such a tedious & dangerous thing sometimes. Every breath leaves you open to horrors that most of us have simply stopped being aware of for the sake of our sanity. Stepping out of my front door in the morning leaves me wide open to harm, in all and every form. Yet I continue to do it, most of the time unaware of just how much, if I allowed it, fear could run & ruin my life. I suddenly can understand people who want to commit suicide. I wouldn’t want to suffer through a life that was not really living… but was rather a constant cringing from everything that is life. I would have to find something tall to jump off of… or something heavy to get hit by…what would the bother be? What would the use be?
Living a life devoid of any joy is not living a life at all. Before, I couldn’t understand how anyone could assume that the rest of their life would be as empty of joy as the previous years of their life had been. Now…now I understand. If the thing that is depriving you of joy is yourself… the only way (as far as we know) to escape the fleshy temple of your body is death. There is no other choice. and Only The Strong would be able to create, from the thing that terrifies them most of all, another option.

Stay Jazzed.